Shelf It, Baby!
by BerryKnacker
Summary: Dante feels he has to prove his manliness by building a shelf. And it seems to go down well enough... For Strawberry Hollow.


**Author's Notes: **I couldn't not write this. Seriously. This is absolute genius. To me and Bae (Strawberry Hollow), anyhow, because we're absolute morons. And because shelves are manly and sticks cannot do shelves.

Oh, and I'd just like to add that I nearly died writing this. Twice. Because wasps are nebby and love me, apparently.

**Warnings: **Yaoi, shmut, established relationship with no explanation. Because this is a one shot and not a life story, so deal. Use your imagination. Is magical, truly.

**Disclaimer: **I own shit. Wish I did, but I don't. Not DMC, not Van Helsing.

* * *

**Shelf It, Baby!**

If Nero had known his comment would lead to this, he would've kept his mouth shut.

"What the hell is that supposed to be, old man?"

Honestly, he'd thought it would have been a good laugh. That Dante would paddy, sulk, and go eat his strawberry ice cream like he usually did whenever Nero insulted him.

"Exactly what it looks like, kid; a shelf!"

But this time, Nero guessed, he'd touched a sore spot.

They'd been watching Van Helsing, for lack of anything else better to do, when it had started; Nero, who was not usually one for lounging around and wasting time in front of the TV, had found himself rather enjoying watching Hugh Jackman run around with his crossbow and killer trench coat. And when he'd noticed that Dante was eyeing him, having figured that very thing out, Nero couldn't help but want to tease the other. Because A, he was bored, and B, a jealous Dante always meant better sex. Because god forbid someone threaten Dante's male pride and ability to fuck Nero into a stupor.

So Nero had phrased it a way that wasn't direct, but that any idiot could figure out if they tried a little:

_"Now_ he_ can put up a shelf for me any day."_

Or so he'd thought.

Because either Nero had given Dante too much credit, or the idiot had taken it literally to get back at him and prove a point. Badly.

"You built a shelf?"

Nero looked at the shelf..._thing._ The wood was obviously starting to rot (god knows where the moron had found it), nails stuck out every-which-way, and Nero supposed it was kind of straight. If he tilted his head about fifteen degrees to the right.

"You're joking, right?"

Dante, whose face had been full of smug pride and accomplishment only mere seconds ago, scoffed.

"Oh, so that fake can build you one and my perfect-self can't?"

And though Dante obviously meant it to sound sarcastic, Nero could clearly sense the jealousy-fueled anger lacing the other's voice and see the red flickering in the other's eyes. It was endearing, in a way. And absolutely hysterical. So much so, that Nero had to lean against the desk to stop himself falling to the floor; his stomach hurt and eyes streamed tears from his laughter.

"I can't believe you - oh god, you're such an idiot!"

Having calmed down enough he could breathe again, Nero smirked up at the other.

"I didn't want a shelf, old man."

Dante raised a brow, interest apparently piqued.

"Oh?"

Nero nodded, moving close enough that their chests were barely touching, eyes on the other's mouth.

"I guess I'll have to find you something else, then."

The younger _hmmed_ in response, tongue darting out to wet his lips as Dante pulled him closer by his hips, gaze moving up to hungrily meet those ever-so-slightly scarlet orbs of the elder hunter now that there was contact between them.

Nero bucked in obvious invitation, arms moving to link behind his partner's neck.

"I think I have an idea..."

"Oh yeah?" Dante chuckled. "Care to share it, _kid_?"

Happy to oblige, Nero pulled on the other's shoulders, and Dante, taking the hint, lowered Nero onto his beloved desk. And damn if that sight didn't get him every time. They'd broken in the desk plenty of times, but even after fucking on just about every surface in every room of the office, Dante had decided this would always be his favourite. Hell, if he could, he'd have Nero live on the desk; there was something that made his instincts swell in delight whenever Nero would wonder over and sit himself on the edge, but never on the chair - especially when Lady or Trish were around. It also amused the shit out of him; Nero probably didn't even realise that that was a way of his devil side showing respect and acceptance of their bond.

"What's so funny, old man?"

Dante looked at Nero, then, sprawled on his desk with his arms stretched above him and head tilted ever so slightly to accompany his question, and he grinned; life was seriously fucking great, and Dante owed it a whole fucking lot.

"Nothin', kid, just thinking I should build you stuff more often if it gets you this turned on."

A playful punch was thrown and Nero grinned back, snorting.

"You build anything else that looks like that, old man, and I'll seriously start doubting your gender."

Dante leaned forward, now nose-to-nose with the other, and gave a small smirk.

"Don't want that, now do we?"

He freed Nero of his pants and pulled his shirt up to a position where it kept his arms nicely together above his head. (Not that it'd do much when the younger's claws came into play, mind.)

"Guess I best remind you of just how truly _manly _your man is."_  
_

The foreplay was a mixture of teasing nips and harsh bites between one another; nothing more was needed, just the reassurance that they were there. There and not going anywhere.

Then there was that sweet hint of stinging pain as Dante entered him, but neither minded. Welcomed it, really; it grounded them, in a way. Reminded them of where they were, just for that second before sizzling, scorching pleasure sent them flying again.

And god did it. Nero's demonic claws made new punctures among old in the desk. Dante's elongated fangs made new marks among old in his lover's neck. Their demon sides growled, mewled, and purred for each other.

Dante relished in the sounds, wanted more.

So he stood up steadily, grunting with the effort it took to pause for just those few precious seconds, and lifted and spread Nero's legs back over the younger male's head before he began pushing in again. Only now it was deeper and Nero was releasing more of those delicious sounds which were all for only Dante's ear. Him alone. And oh the things that knowledge did to Dante's head.

He turned and bit sharply into his Nero's leg, eyes glued to the trail the blood painted as it fell down the whole length of his other's perfect limb. For a second he was captivated. Just completely gone in that one action deep enough to not realise he'd stopped his movements.

_"Dante?"_

Nero's whines brought him from his daze, though, and for the brief second the pair locked eyes, Dante felt that little something in him snap; his Nero - his mate - was on the verge of triggering, struggling to keep in his devil, all because of him. All because of Dante.

Snarling violently, Dante flung himself forward to latch onto the other's collar.

His pace became bruising and unrelenting, leaving Nero unable to do little more than cling to the other's back and dig groves and patterns which wouldn't last more than a few minutes into the half devil's skin.

Neither lasted much longer, not with such intensity, and it ended quickly, brutally, and left them both light headed.

And though Dante couldn't fully recall carrying them both up the stairs and into bed after that, he clearly remembered the following morning, when he'd woken from the echo of the shower and wondered downstairs to find both Nero's Red Queen and Blue Rose. Sat on the shelf.

The sex had been great that day, too.


End file.
